Admiration
by Travelocity
Summary: Slight sticky. Extreme fluff. Cyclonus and Tailgate talk about security blankets. Author's note attached.


**This is extreme fuckin' fluff like I don't even. Don't like it, don't read I guess I don't know. I have this long list of story ideas and yeah I don't know this was on it. It's cutesyCyclonus and blubberyTailgate. It's also a little old so, I apologize for that. Not too happy with this story but hey, maybe someone'll like it. **

Tailgate retyped his passcode, for the eighth time. His giddiness declined but only a fraction at the frustrating doorlock.

When he finally opened it, he did not hesitate to leap inside, pushing his light weight to the door and shutting it quietly. His elation sparkled behind his mask as he crept over to the heliotrope form on the berth.

"C… Cyclonus? Are you awake?" he asked shyly.

A grunt resounded from the former Decepticon. "What."

Squealing excitedly, Tailgate climbed up to his closest friend, draping over the bot's side. "I'm ready; I came back early from my shift just for y-"

"And Rodimus was alright with that?"

The white bot fell silent; he didn't ask for permission to leave persay… Ratchet said he would be better off leaving than waiting for Rodimus to answer him. Then again that might have been due to the fact that Tailgate hadn't ceased yammering to the medic about he and Cyclonus' plans for the evening. Perhaps he just wanted him to go off and have fun. But the doctor was greatly respected; he would definitely clear things up with Rodimus if the Prime found out.

"Y-…yes," he fibbed.

"You…" the cheekless mech murmured as he lifted Tailgate onto his abdominal plating, "are an atrocious liar."

The stout, white mech flushed, Energon running up to his cheekplates in a heated manner. Before he could answer, Cyclonus had enveloped his mouth in a caring kiss. Warm lips met in a sensual firework of passion as Cyclonus pushed his glossa forth into the smaller mech's mouth. The intrusion felt incredible, the purring of the jet's engine adding to the soft sound of their kisses. Tailgate turned his helm to entwine his glossa with his lover's until they both ran out of stamina to continue pressing into one another.

"Cy…C-cy…Cylonus…" a small voice called.

The bot of said designation tilted the panting Autobot's helm up to his own. "What do you need?" he whispered, pressing kisses against his vulnerable neck cables.

Tailgate squirmed, tempted to try and touch Cyclonus instead of verbal communication, but he knew that something as good as this, with a previous 'Con… he shouldn't press his luck. His visor flashed a bright turquoise before he felt talons scrape across his interface panel.

"Is this what you would like, mm?" a sultry voice crooned.

Fluttering his optics behind their covering, the white and blue mech screeched. Cyclonus tumbled, placing his lover snugly under him. Peeping joyously, Tailgate playfully wormed away out of reach, teasing his berthmate as he always did. Spreading his pedes, Cyclonus pulled the small mech towards him by the panel. Much to Tailgate's surprise, it didn't hurt. In fact, it stimulated his sensors more than he thought it ever would have.

Snorting, the neutral bot thumbed over his prey's mask. He dismounted the bot before stepping over to Tailgate's actual berth.

Leaning up out of curiosity, the Autobot queried, "Cyclonus? W-what's wrong?"

A loud, orotund scrape caused the confused bot to cover his audials, protecting them from the shrieking metal. His roommate had his pedes placed firmly against the wall as he began shoving the berth to the adjacent one. It took merely nanokliks before the recharge slabs were smashed together in place side by side.

The squeakier bot flushed again, clasping his servos to his cheekplates. "O-oh Cyclonus!"

Grunting a noise of amusement, Cyclonus climbed back onto the conjoined berths, pulling Tailgate to his previous position beneath him.

Tailgate batted at his broad chestplates before mewling softly, "Y-you didn't have to do that."

"Mmm…" The light purple servos pressed onto his small frame again, fingering at little seams and lines across the teeny frame. Primus, this was going to feel so… primal and delectable. Ravaging that taut little valve with sweet dominance and tender force. Cyclonus nearly snarled at the savory thoughts.

That is, he was about to until a small servo pushed between his hip joints.

Snapping his servo reflexively at the Autobot's wrist, the ex-Con leaned in menacingly as if to question the gesture.

Tailgate immediately saw his fault. Whining, he gently tugged to free his servo, to which he was granted. He shrunk back, hiding his shame as best he could while wearing it like another coat of paint. Tremors of fear slithered over his frame at the fear not of pain, but of being shoved away from his beloved.

But nothing happened; the air was still thick and dry with anticipation. Cyclonus' ruby optics didn't flare as he expected. Instead… he was frozen with shock, the color flushing from his faceplate.

Did he dare speak…?

"C… Cyclonus? I… please, please I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! F-forgive m-"

A kiss silenced the panicking mech. "Don't… Tailgate… t-touch me again."

The smaller bot shivered, aroused at the fact he was allowed to _treat_ Cyclonus for once. Not that he was complaining… but he always yearned to pleasure him first, or at least in return. And now… now was his chance to show he was not just a bottom mech… not always, not tonight.

Tailgate smiled behind his veil, curling his digits against the berth before making a seductive huff, an attempted growl at this point. He tried to mimic the heated growls and animalistic hisses his lover had always made for him; they never failed to arouse the two of them.

The normally stoic mech lost his composure, biting his lower lip as heat surged to his panel. Audible arousal was so… inviting, so intimate and personal to him. It was a way he fancied his partners: noisy.

And Tailgate always was kind enough to reciprocate with his whines and cries of sweet, wet pleasure, moans and leakage. They just went servo in servo and Cyclonus smothered him with appreciation every night they had time to themselves. However often they occurred.

Sliding off his mate, the towering mech hunched under Tailgate's commanding servo, one that pushed him off lightly. The little digits of his lover felt increasingly hot against his armor. His core temperature spiked and swelled periodically, the dark blush showing on his faceplate. Tailgate rolled onto Cyclonus, pushing again to keep him down firmly underneath his spread pedes. Cyclonus arched his back, bumping it against Tailgate's front.

"Down," Tailgate murmured, as if training his usually dominant partner to cope with the feelings of being owned and pleasured.

Nodding, Cyclonus wiggled, comfortably setting his back plating into the firm bedding. "I-I am," he uncharacteristically stuttered, responding to his suddenly bossy playmate.

Tailgate trailed his servos over the broad back in front of him, groping the metal with a gentle touch. Cyclonus gasped when he felt a soft pat against his aft. His helm turned slightly, his back arching and ruffling his plating as the bot on his frame touched along his curved aft. Tailgate was… being daring.

The small white mech smiled widely, noticing Cyclonus' hazed expression. The busy servos left the frame below in favor of unsnapping Tailgate's mask, revealing a smooth, regularly unseen faceplate. The "bomb" disposal expert giggled lightly, pushing his hips forward to grind against Cyclonus' forced up aft. Snorting in air, the large mech curled his claws against the berth, holding in the obscene noises he would undoubtedly make otherwise.

Leaning against his bridging back, Tailgate left quiet kisses against the overheating mech's neck. The tiny bot always bathed in the luxury of Cyclonus letting him take control; it had only happened once before and it always ended in a sweet surprise. The higher pitched noises coming from his roommate were just so unique and uncommon. They were music against his audials.

Cyclonus huffed in more air uneasily, undulating his hips under his partner. The blissful heat behind his panel escalated when he was spanked just once more, a stinging imprint left by the miniature servo that did it. Smirking, he halved his optics, letting his frame soak up the arousing tingle as he was smacked a few more times.

Tailgate treasured this activity but time and time again, he'd ask if he was causing pain. But due to Cyclonus' size, the gargantuan mech said he hardly felt anything at all. Hence the reason he told Tailgate to give it all he had.

"M-mmhff, T-tailgate…" he mumbled, his optics rolling back as he bucked back up to the Autobot. Tailgate's small, firm servos kneaded the softer metal under Cyclonus' hip plates. In response, his intakes hitched, a small indiscreet noise of squeaky pleasure emanating from the former Decepticon.

Giggling, Tailgate smiled, stopping and nuzzling the upward turned neck in front of him, abandoning his previous controlling demeanor. Cyclonus flinched, awaking his senses enough to notice the white mech atop him returning to his former self. Disappointing a bit, but he still loved the mech and his adorable two sided berth attitudes.

Shaking his helm to white out his… desperate display from earlier, Cyclonus sat up, turning around and leaned in to kiss his loving mech contortedly. Tailgate crooned, resuming his natural pleasant demeanor and kneading the larger mech before him.

Curling his servo around the small bot, the heliotrope mech pulled him between his pedes. A soft hand came down against the white bot's aft; slowly it stroked across his plating, holding firmly as Cyclonus turned his helm, directing his attention to the door.

"C-Cylconus…" the "bomb" disposal mech whimpered, catching him out of the corner of his optic.

Rolling his optics, the former Decepticon snorted out air through his nasal passage. Tailgate smiled and tittered when he felt it on his helm, squinting his optics momentarily.

"I am not planning on leaving, idiot," Cyclonus commented. But his gaze was wayward; his cheekplates were an odd hue of pink.

Sneaking his frame up onto the taller mech, the Autobot embedded his face into the warm neck cables. "I-I know…"

Cyclonus hunched his hulking frame over his lover, grunting under his breath. "Hey."

Keeping his normally buzzing frame still, Tailgate only stared off into space. When Cyclonus did not respond, that is when he decided to face him, putting the least amount of distance between them as he did so to gaze up at this… godly figure.

"I love you, Tailgate."

"I… m-me more, Cyclonus," he chirped back.

Tailgate tightened at the words; it felt… incredible to feel loved, wanted. While, Cyclonus did show it in odd ways at times, he still meant very well.

Tailgate never felt wanted. Let alone liked. He had had many friends, but he was a good friend to all, best friend to none. That was what hurt before he came to the Lost Light. He sometimes could not help but feel that if he had his chance on the Ark that it would have turned out differently. Maybe he would have been a war hero, he would have actually _known _about the war. A war so awful it will be forever engraved into Cybertronian history. And he missed it.

But Cyclonus did not. He was there; perhaps that was a small reason why Tailgate was so fond of him, so in awe always, continuously. Cyclonus was known to have been on "the wrong side" or in Rodimus' words, "the losing side." But, he turned back from his ways, changed his processor to not defend the right, but to not contribute to the wrong.

It was fascinating to him. Tailgate always wondered when was that specific moment hit him that he changed and-

"Tailgate, it's time for bed. That is if you are not into more-" Cyclonus fingered at his codpiece ever so lightly, nearly absentmindedly, "Foreplay."

Flushing brightly, Tailgate pecked his prominent cheekplate corner as he mewled, "I wanna play with you Cyclonus b-but I'm-"He yawned.

Two millimeters off, Cyclonus just about smiled. His heavy servo pulled Tailgate close as possible in their conjoined berths. The white Autobot scrambled to cover his partner first and himself second with the sheets.

As the neutral reached over to shut off all lights and systems in their hab. suite, he felt the Tailgate flinch and panic.

"W-where is it? Where is i-it?" he squealed impatiently.

Hushing his lover with a kiss, Cyclonus pulled back. "Where is what, Tailgate?" He asked forwardly. Patience was normally one of his best traits but not when he wanted to recharge.

Tailgate covered his optics and shook his helm, burrowing in his Pride and Joy. "N-nothing, it's stupid, never mind," he moped, muzzled by the fabric.

Cyclonus pet his back, waiting for Tailgate to sort out his thoughts. He glanced briefly, checking once more as he saw a folded up piece of cloth in Tailgate's nightstand: the only thing on that side of the room.

"Would that be it?" he questioned.

Nuzzling his helm out of his nesting area, Tailgate gasped. "Yes!"

Cyclonus raised his optic ridge and turned his helm towards him at the high volume.

"S-sorry. I'll go get it-"

"No."

Scrunching up his frame, Tailgate touched over his chestplate, "I…b-but I can't sleep without i-it."

"I meant 'no, I will get it for you,'" the large mech vented, exiting their berths. He bent over and snatched the soft blanket, bringing it over to the bright azure optics across from him.

Purring in appreciation, Tailgate climbed all over Cyclonus as soon as he returned to his former position. The down blanket was soft and luxurious, something Cyclonus couldn't help but envy slightly; he never had anything that special to be attached to. But now he had Tailgate, something that unlike an object, would love him back.

The blue and white bot clutched his treasure. Meanwhile, Cyclonus repositioned himself, lying down more to sleep. But he couldn't. He just watched Tailgate swooning and crooning to himself with his beige fabric. It was… cute. Very cute indeed. But Cyclonus does not show that.

"Are you going to put that down and come to me now?"

Perking his helm up, Tailgate whined apologetically. "I-I didn't mean to be absorbed in i-it I'm sorry; I'll pay more attention to yo-"

"Why does it have an Old Cybertronian symbol on it," Cyclonus interjected, not raising his octave to sound like a proper question.

"I… it's from when I was created, I don't remember who gave i-it to me. I… I think it was my creator. B…but thank you for going to get it."

Cyclonus paused, just watching Tailgate's optics flutter out of shyness. It was the object Tailgate mentioned over and over again, his only possession from the exact place he lived. The small province he had only visited once.

On the inside of his spark he wished he had come by more. Much more.

"Tailgate…" Cyclonus carried off.

"M-mm?"

"I would do anything for you, you know that."

"Heehee, I know. Me too," Tailgate cooed.

"Mmm…" Cyclonus halved his optics, scooting in even closer to his precious bot, fingering the soft fabric of the blanket. Tailgate purred, satisfaction brewing inside him from seeing his mate take part in savoring his most prized possession. That is, besides Cyclonus.

Kissing his helm once more, Cyclonus shut off his optics, letting the waves of recharge worm into his systems that shut down one by one.

"Cyclonus?"

Biting his lip to prevent unauthorized curses from flinging out at Tailgate, Cyclonus grunted loudly. "Now what."

"D-do you have something like this too?" Tailgate asked softly. He nudged forward his blanket in his tight grip.

Looking down at his pedes, the neutral sighed, answering the endless stream of conversation. "Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"I-is it like mine?"

"Somewhat."

"O-oh…" Tailgate mewled, thumbing the cloth again. "Ok." His optics halved as he looked down as he squirmed, nudging his way into the berth for a comfortable position to recharge in. The purple, dully aggravated mech twitched his claws a bit, closing his optics yet again for long awaited stasis.

Coiling further to the opposing form in the two, now one berth, the white mech began again, "C-can I see it?"

Grumbling under his breath, Cyclonus wasted no time in pulling it out from behind his pillow. All he asked for was sleep. Rarely did he get it with his mate but… he could lose all sleep forever if it meant keeping this bot happily tight against him to protect, to love. As long as Tailgate was content, anything was worth it.

It was nice to love something other than eviscerating enemies.

A small, lavender blanket was extracted from the pillow. It did not have a symbol but it held a decorative border of silk, interlacing ribbons. Tailgate smiled brightly behind his mask, his optics glowing vividly. "It's so pretty! I like it." He curled and rolled lightly, giggling excitedly at his straight-faced mate.

Cyclonus couldn't help but lower his helm and stare at what was in his servos. He didn't… usually take it out from his berth and Tailgate was now the only bot to know of what it was, and what it meant to him. Maybe he would tell him all of its history, maybe he would not. He would say what it meant, on a personal scale. How it was no trinket, but a treasured relic of his home. It wasn't childish, it was… all right perhaps a tad but regardless, it was special. Surely of all bots, Tailgate would grasp that, seeing as he possessed one of his own. … There was a chance he would even understand it on an intimate level.

Judging by Tailgate's aroused curiosity and thorough fondling of Cyclonus' property; he seemed to find the meaning swarming inside. His turquoise optics shown bright through his visor, creating a mystical aura focused in on Cyclonus. The innocence was… as precious as the blanket itself.

The rigid mech leaned his appendage around his Autobot to keep him snug. He gently caressed his side, fingering the teal metal and causing said bot to chirp happily. The haze in Tailgate's dimming optics grew more apparent than his metal digging into the 'Bot's paint. But sleep was the first thing on his mind tonight. Sleeping here, with his beloved. That's all; nothing more, nothing less.

Tailgate was elated; he pet the ragged cloth and pinched the silk between gentle digits. It was nice… Cyclonus trusted him enough. "What is yours for?"

Tailgate looked petrified, more than startled by such an odd inquiry. Most Cybertronians knew what they were for, although most we reluctant to admit to it. "I… i-it's for security. It makes me happy," he answered sheepishly.

Cyclonus just sat still. The look adorning his faceplate was unreadable. His dark, voice filled the silence soon enough upon seeing Tailgate's awkward smile. "But that is what I am here for," Cyclonus purred in a lower octave than normal. It sent tingles of warmth through Tailgate's neck down to his heels as it reverberated into his struts.

The white bot pondered what it would have felt like to finish their session, to have Cyclonus' arms tightly around him, servo planted firmly against his groin. He writhed before settling into his mate.

Such things could wait.


End file.
